Home Improvement
by SaraBahama
Summary: Sam and Jack dabble in a little home improvement project. Set between 'Ark of Truth' and SGA 'Adrift'. Written in honor of Ship Day 2011. Nuthin' but fluff.


**A/N:** _Set before SGA 'Adrift.' A fluffy little piece for S/J written in honor of Ship Day 2011. As always, thanks to hedwig for a timely Beta -you are the best!_

She stood in the middle of the room calculating.

"Sam?" he said.

No response.

"Saaam?" he repeated, drawing her name out.

Still nothing.

"Carter!" he barked, amused by the start she gave as she snapped out of her contemplations. She almost came to attention before catching herself. Swinging slowly in his direction, she pinned him with a questioning look, mild irritation knotting her brow. "Nuthin'," he said innocently, "I just thought I saw smoke…the wheels were turning so hard in that head of yours."

"I was just trying to calculate the square footage of the walls in relation to the paint that we…"

"Dat-dat-ah!" he interrupted her with an impatient wave of his hands, handing her a roller, "Less calculating, more painting."

He turned back to the wall he was working on and dipped his brush into the open paint can. He paused with the paintbrush poised in midair, feeling her eyes on his back; and turning to look at her over his shoulder, he observed her standing in the middle of the room, her arms folded across her chest, staring at him with an irritated frown. He clamped down on the smirk he felt rising to his lips, knowing that it would just infuriate her.

She saw the ghost of the smile flit across his face and rolled her eyes, a grin emerging in response to his meager attempt at self-control.

He grinned back at her. It was good to have her home, as selfish as that sounded. The rest of the universe may need her, but occasionally he needed her, too. A few weeks of leave hardly seemed enough, but he would take what he could get.

She stood there, backlit by the soft afternoon light filtering in through the bedroom windows, looking beautiful to him in her worn jeans and faded blue T-shirt, with the sunlight creating an ethereal halo around her head. The long, golden strands of hair were drawn back into a ponytail.

She had asked his opinion before she had started letting it grow out, which had given him pause. Sam was a confident, strong woman, possessing a toughness that had been essential for her to achieve her current rank. He knew once she set her mind to a course of action, she would do it regardless of what other people thought, and he had been touched that his opinion mattered to her. He told her that it didn't matter to him if she had short hair, long hair, or even no hair at all. She was his Sam. That was enough.

She felt the hot flush of color rising into her cheeks and caught her breath at the unguarded look of affection in his eyes…the same brown eyes, framed by soft grey brows, which had never ceased to captivate her. His hair was more silver than brown now, the change occurring gradually over the 12 years she had known him. His signature half-smile quirked his lips as he regarded her.

He stood up, walked slowly over to where she stood, and leaned in toward her. She stared into his eyes, tilting her chin in expectation of his lips meeting hers. Instead she felt a wet smack on her chest. Looking down, she realized he had slapped his paintbrush against the front of her shirt! With her lips forming a surprised "o," she looked up in time to see a devilish smile light up his face. _Honestly! No matter how old he gets_, she thought, _he still acts like he's 15…18 tops_!

She grabbed his wrists in her hands, twisting the offending weapon away from her clothes. As she wrestled the brush from his hands, paint droplets cascaded around them both. She dropped the brush on the plastic drop cloth they had spread out to protect the carpet against spills. He chuckled at the chaos he had just created, and when she swatted his arm he swatted her back lightly and laughed harder. She moved her hand to swat him again, and he grabbed her wrists, a twinkle in his eyes. She narrowed her eyes in a calculating look, slipped a leg behind his, and leaned forward quickly, overbalancing him and dropping him flat on his back. She had a brief moment to savor the surprised look on his face before she realized that he was still firmly gripping her hands, pulling her down with him. She landed on top of him and immediately twisted her hands free of his grip, pinned his hands to the floor, and restrained his legs with her own. He tested her hold on him, and found that she had him completely immobile. The angle and her firm grip kept him from flipping her and reversing their positions.

"I must be getting old," he said quietly, the comment edged with humor.

She let her eyes rove over his silver hair, and the familiar lines of his face, "Why do you say that…Sir?"

The honorific brought a full-fledged grin to his face. _Dang…she only called him Sir anymore to drive him crazy_.

"A couple of years ago there would have been no way you could have pinned me in a fair fight," he chuckled.

"My CO once told me that there was no such thing as a fair fight," she replied.

"Smart man," he murmured.

She leaned over him until her face was inches from his. She released one of his hands and reached up to rub at a paint droplet in his silver hair.

He moved his free hand to cup her face, rubbing a splotch of paint from her cheek with his calloused thumb. _Man! I love this woman! _He reached around the back of her neck and gently teased the hair clasp loose, freeing her hair.

Her breath caressed his face, and that sunshine hair hung around him in curtains. She could still make his heart race, and he was sure that if he lived to be a hundred, she would never lose the power to affect him that way. She stayed just out of reach, the twinkle in her eyes teasing him mercilessly. A wicked smile played at the edges of her lips, dimpling her cheeks.

Yep…having Sam back was a definite home improvement.

End.


End file.
